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by mysticalmusicwhispers



Series: Ponderous Thoughts (a hetalia drabble series) [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, Gen, Implied Nudity, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticalmusicwhispers/pseuds/mysticalmusicwhispers
Summary: Her fingers tingle, and she imagines it is from something in the seabreeze, something magic, perhaps, that stirs her marrow and quickens the beating of her soul.or: Michelle goes down to the beach.
Series: Ponderous Thoughts (a hetalia drabble series) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131374
Kudos: 4





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**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from my [tumblr](https://mysticalmusicwhispers.tumblr.com)! ([original post](https://mysticalmusicwhispers.tumblr.com/post/641482554941341696/summary-seychelles-goes-down-to-the-beach))  
> Feedback is welcome and appreciated!

Michelle can feel the ocean long before she reaches the end of the small path winding through the coco-de-mers. She wonders if it is instinct that pulls her towards it, pulls her like a magnet to true north; or maybe it is because the sea is simply a part of her, the salty ocean water the blood that runs through her veins. It is fitting, she thinks: she often fancies that her heart beats in time with the waves lapping gently at her shores, sometimes thinks that she hears the soft susurrus of the surf in places far inland, occasionally catches whiffs of salty air and the crisp sea breeze when she sniffs at her hands. So, she thinks, as her bare feet step nimbly over the twisting roots and smooth pebbles and dry leaves that litter the winding path, perhaps that—the fact that she is a child of the sea much more than the land—that is why the ocean has always felt like her true home.

The sand is cool and silky under her feet, and with every step it shifts slightly, enveloping her toes, embracing them in welcome. She is suddenly reminded why she loves walking barefoot along the shore, and she grins, digging her toes into the sand and feeling the fine grains slip around them like water.

Water. She can smell the half-sweet, half-salty tang of the ocean—the breeze is stronger on the shore, filled with the smell of brine and seaweed and signs of small shellfish hiding under the sand. She breathes in deeply. Her fingers tingle, and she imagines it is from something in the seabreeze, something magic, perhaps, that stirs her marrow and quickens the beating of her soul.

She slips out of her dress easily and places it on the sand. It will be comfortably warm when she comes back, like a hug from the sunshine.

And then she walks, with careful, dainty steps, towards the water, and stands there, feeling the waves lap at her ankles and curl around her feet, an entreaty to come closer, to come home. The voice of the sea calls her name.

The voice of the sea calls her name, and she obeys. She walks further and further, deeper and deeper, until she strikes out with a sweep of the arm, and beings to swim.

The sea embraces her gently, and she relaxes into the welcoming waves. Seagulls shriek distantly above, and a school of fish dart past, quick streaks of yellow and orange on a vase canvas of blue. The cool ocean water invigorates her, excites her; she can hear her heartbeat thrumming loud in her ears and see the sparkling glint of sunlight on the water. When she comes up for air, the familiar tang of sea spray hits her, and she breathes deeply before dipping back down into the waves.

She is home.


End file.
